


Letting Off Steam

by Chiomi



Category: He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Complete crack, Crack, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry, the game Slash and a whole lot of Bad Decisions were involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 04:07:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7419145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiomi/pseuds/Chiomi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mohandas Gandhi goes clubbing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letting Off Steam

**Author's Note:**

  * For [piratekelly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/piratekelly/gifts).



> I am tidying my folders in preparation for falling into another fandom, and this went up on tumblr but not here.
> 
> We were playing Slash. This was a winning pairing. We were all very drunk, and this is Kelly's fault.

He’s tall and built, and the way he moves his hips is magnetic. Mohandas makes his way across the floor, slipping through the crowd towards his goal. They start the new campaign tomorrow, and he just wants tonight to blow off steam - and maybe blow this guy, too.

Their heights are too disparate to grind up on him properly, but Mohandas gets his hands on his hips and moves him. The guy moves easily, pliant in his grip, and they dance together until Mohandas is sure the guy can feel his cock against the back of his thigh. He spins him around and reaches up to cup the back of his skull and bring it in whisper distance. “Wanna move this somewhere private?”  


“Yeah,” the dude breathes, and Mohandas takes him by the hand and leads him to the bathroom. The guy’s skin looks blue under the fluorescent lights, but it’s smooth and warm to the touch. He looms over Mohandas, getting up in close enough that his body heat’s intoxicating.

Mohandas switches their positions and drops to his knees, scrabbling for the guy’s belt. He’s already hard, wearing tight briefs that slide down easy. Mohandas doesn’t waste any time. He licks the boner in front of him from root to tip, then sucks it in. Watching the guy fall apart - feeling him fall apart - sends a rush to Mohandas’ dick, and he loves the sound of it when the guy’s skull hit the wall behind him.

He comes without warning, shooting down Mohandas’ throat, then drags him upright for a fast, sloppy handjob. That doesn’t take long: Mohandas gets off on taking people apart.

They don’t exchange numbers. It’s just a club hookup.

Mohandas gets a cab home and chugs a glass of water before rolling into bed to sleep, unperturbed by dreams.

*

“Mister Gandhi, your new campaign manager is here,” his secretary says in the morning.

Mohandas is nursing a hangover and his third cup of coffee: election season’s just starting, but he wants to hit the ground running. “Send him in.”

A moment later, a tall man ducks in. His skin’s washed blue even in the morning light, and the yellowed skull on his neck is painfully familiar. Mohandas feels all the blood drain from his face.

“Oh,” says Skeletor, emoting terrible awkwardness with his empty sockets.


End file.
